


The Makers Supper

by lionofskyhold



Series: Until Lambs Become Lions [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Oral Sex, Recites the Chant while having sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:10:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3277961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionofskyhold/pseuds/lionofskyhold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gale wanders into the Chantry, wondering about faith when Cullen finds her. He shows her what Andrastianism is all about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Makers Supper

Gale wanders down the aisle of the Chantry, fingertips running over the pews before she reaches the altar. She pauses at the bottom of the steps, the large statue of Andraste looming up before her. Taking the steps slowly, she stops at the altar and reaches out a hand to brush over the smooth stone. 

“And..Andraste—“ Gale starts, bracing her hands on the altar and hanging her head, “What in Thedas am I doing.”  
“It helps if you know the words,” Cullen says, his voice startling her and making her whip around. 

Cullen stands in doorway, hesitating before he steps inside and shuts the door behind him. He lingers at the entrance, watching her and weighing his words as carefully as his tentative steps down the aisle to her.

“I’ve noticed how…uncomfortable, you get when people call you the Herald of Andraste,” Cullen says, eyes falling to the floor, “I know you don’t believe…and I’ve never questioned or prodded, but please, Gale, don’t shut me out.”  
“Oh Cullen, I’m not—I’m not shutting you out,” Gale says, stepping down to meet him halfway, “I just, I see these people look up to me with such…reverence, hope and kindness. But I can’t make sense of how these same people follow a faith that slaughtered my parents, my entire village.”  
“And what of me?”

She tries to open her mouth to speak but the words fall flat. It was something she had held in the back of her mind for a while, like a poison it lingered and casted doubt. The rational part of her mind knew she could not hold him to blame and her heart desperately wanted to forget and move on, the love she felt for him almost overshadowing that doubt. Almost.

“It’s always there in my mind, the fire, the death and it was done in Andraste and His name,” Gale says, waving her hand to the statue.  
“You know what I was part of before I joined the Inquisition, what I allowed happen,” Cullen says, taking her hands in his, “But I realized something. The words I read, didn’t mean the same to others. There are those who use His word against His people as justification for their violence. I don’t.”  
“I know—“ Gale starts, his finger at her lips stopping her.  
“His word is about forgiveness, love and compassion,” Cullen says, his hand moving to caress her cheek, “I thought it was a sin once, to love you more than the Maker himself. But I know in my heart this is right.”

Lifting up her hands, he kisses the backs of her hands, the knuckles and then each finger one at a time. 

“Show me,” Gale whispers, searching his eyes, “Teach me the words, show me how loving and compassionate it is.”

Cullen’s eyes flicker between hers for a moment, before he draws her close, his arms coming around her and he covers her lips with his. He cradles her face as if it was sacred and holy, kissing her devotedly and passionately. Reaching up, her hands cup his on her cheeks, lips parting after his tongue traces over them. Tongue slipping inside her mouth, he pulls from her a soft sigh. Slowly he guides her backward to the altar, up the steps until the stone presses against her back.

“O Maker, hear my cry: Guide me through the blackest nights,” Cullen says, pressing kisses across her neck in between words, “Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked.”

Reaching down to her pants, he quickly unties the laces and strips her of her boots, pants and smalls. His fingertips trail tantalizing up the bare skin of her leg making her shudder until they encounter her shirt. Taking the hem of her shirt between his fingers, he pulls it up over her head and tosses it with the rest of the clothing. She trembles slightly, her eyes lidded and heavy with lust. Pulling her up, he sits her the altar and settling himself between her legs, he attends to her breasts.

Kneading them with his hands, he watches her face, her head lolling back, eyes sliding shut and her lips parting slightly. He kisses down her chest, lips trailing over her skin and pulling up goose bumps in anticipation, her breath leaving her in quiet sighs and moans. Reaching one mound, his tongue flicks over the stiff peak and she gasps when he takes her breast into his mouth. Suckling, nibbling and caressing, she quivers and pants, weeping with pleasure at his attention to her bosom, her fingers running through his hair. Leaving her breasts, his mouth continues down over the planes of her stomach and stopping just short of her folds. 

“Make me to rest in the warmest places.” Cullen says, kneeling before her wet sex.

Her eyes open to stare down at him and with that he sweeps his tongue over her in one long stroke. He smiles against her, pleased to see how wet she is, her taste and smell filling his senses. Each sharp intake of breath fuels his enthusiasm as he worships her, her thighs trembling against his cheek and her chest heaving with strained breaths. 

“O Creator, see me kneel: For I walk only where You bid me. Stand only in places You have blessed. Sing only the words You place in my throat,” Cullen says, the vibrations of his voice and the way in which he says the words with such impassioned vigor makes her heart flutter and hammer in her chest. He wasn’t saying the words to his Maker or even Andraste, he was saying them to her, worshipping her and with his usual fervor, he was showing her. 

She spreads her legs wider, wrapping them over his shoulders and around his neck, trapping him as if he would ever leave. Her fingers tangle in his hair as he feasts on her, burying his face in her heat, devouring and savoring all that she is. Slipping a finger inside her, she writhes as it curls, rubbing that one spot that makes her see stars. Finally his lips and tongue close in on her swollen pearl and she slips closer and closer to the edge. Her hips jerk toward him of their own accord, grinding against his face and seeking just a bit more.

“Cry out my name, my Herald,” Cullen says, his tongue stroking her clit and his finger moving within her endlessly until it finally pushes her over.

Back arching, she cries out, his name falling from her lips with reverence. He looks up at her and watches her body tremble with release, her head thrown back with lips agape, legs pressing him closer. There were few things he enjoyed more than seeing her as such, fewer less that he found more beautiful than her laid out before him, exposed and weeping with desire for him alone. 

His mouth never halts or pauses until she stills, her fingers relaxing in his hair and her legs falling limp on his shoulders. With a parting kiss, he stands up and reaches a hand out to take her chin lightly, thumbing her lips.

“My Maker, know my heart. Take me from a life of sorrow, Lift me from a world of pain, Judge me worthy of Your endless pride,” Cullen whispers, his lips brushing over hers with each word until they meet. 

Eager hands race down across his chest, fumbling with buttons until she manages to help him shrug out of his shirt. Her fingers follow the dips of muscles down to the laces of his breeches, pulling the strings free and shoving his pants down. Taking his length in hand, her thumb brushes around the head, swirling over the white bead of pre-cum. Pumping him slowly, his breath is hot and heavy on her shoulder.

“My Creator, judge me whole: Find me well within Your grace, Touch me with fire that I be cleansed, Tell me I have sung to Your approval,” Cullen mumbles, his voice showing the lightest of strain as he tries to keep his composure, aching to be inside her.  
“Please,” Gale murmurs, releasing his hardness to cup his cheek.

Resting his forehead against hers, he rubs himself across her folds. He teases her entrance, slipping inside just barely before pulling away to grind against her. When at last he can’t bare to be separated from her, he glides into her with exquisite slowness, savoring each inch until he’s buried within her completely. 

Wrapping her arms around him, she pleads with him to move, desperate to find release with him. He complies, pulling out and slipping inside with languid movements. With each slow thrust, warmth builds and spreads over them, a spark igniting and setting their skin aflame. She clings to him, loosing herself in his ebb and flow, drifting through the pleasure at it climbs. His hands run over her body, caressing her breasts, circling her clit, her soft pants and sighs of bliss music to his ears. 

“O Maker, hear my cry: Seat me by Your side in death, Make me one within Your glory, And let the world once more see Your favor,” Cullen whispers, his voice rough and unsteady against her cheek. 

He plunges into her in growing speed and urgency, eyes closed as he shakes and his thrusts become erratic. Biting her lip, she holds onto him, trying to draw him closer, deeper, needing to feel all of him. Urging her closer, he angles her hips and presses into her deeper, reaching that spot within her that makes her cry out his name. 

She comes first, a sobbing cry pulling from her lips, bright white blinding her vision and overwhelming ecstasy flooding all of her senses. Her walls pulse and tighten around him, pulling him over with her. Shuddering against her, his hands tighten on her hips, surely leaving bruises there for later, and he comes undone. He claims her mouth, kissing her hard and frantically, swallowing her moans.

Clutching and holding to one another, their skin slick and damp with sweat, they ride out the last waves of pleasure before slowly coming to. Their hearts slow down to a steady beat once more and with a groan, he slips out of her.

“For You are the fire at the heart of the world, And comfort is only Yours to give,” Cullen says breathlessly, pushing hair away from her face, kissing her sweetly and tenderly. 

Tucking her face against his shoulder, they sit there for a moment, basking in the warm afterglow of their passion. She smiles into his shoulder, her finger drawing mindless patterns across his skin as his knead her sides. And for the first time, the lingering memory of the fire when she was a child and the doubt fall silent and fade away. It would take time for it to disappear completely, but for now she was content in knowing Cullen would help her and guide her and open her eyes to see the difference between the Andrastian’s they fought and the ones they fought to protect. He understood and that made her happiest of all.

**Author's Note:**

> Can also be found here, http://lionofskyhold.tumblr.com/post/99574939878/  
> Was based off this headcanon set, http://lionofskyhold.tumblr.com/post/99496194968/


End file.
